Disclaimer: I do not own Gravity Falls. Big thanks to my Beta reader Kinzichi.
Hope everyone had a Happy Easter!
Age 15
When I awoke
The moon still hung.
The night so black that the darkness hummed
I raised myself.
My legs were weak.
I prayed my mind be good to me.
In The Woods Somewhere
Hozier
Journal Entry #47
" It moves with a certain grace and precision unnatural given its height and length of limb. That is, if you can catch it in movement. The creature has no face as in; it has no features, almost giving off the impression of some sort of mask. The creature is humanoid in appearance but is definitely, in no way, human. It's arms reach all the way down to the ground, impressive considering the creature's towering height. It appears to wear some kind of suit but at the ends of its legs and arms it seems to blend in with the skin leading me to believe the appearance of clothing to be some bizarre form of camouflage. I will state in this, my official record of this creature with no shame, that this is probably the most horrifying creature I have ever encountered, and the reason is indefinable. It moves silently and terrifyingly quickly, so that in the blink of an eye, it can be in a completely different spot than before. I have finally been able to gather enough information to know that the local children who have disappeared were all last seen heading towards the forest. The idea that I may have found the creature responsible both thrills and frightens me but regardless, I have to learn more to know how to defeat it. I'm heading out tonight in hopes of obtaining more information."
-Stanley Pines
...
"And just what do you think you're doing?" The gruff voice that had seemingly come out of nowhere made Stanley jump in shock.
"Holy Shit!" he quietly exclaimed (his dad would have boxed his ears for that one), "Are you trying to kill me?" Stanford Pines leaned back in the chair he occupied, apparently having been waiting for a chance to ambush his brother, looked unbothered by his brother's dramatics.
"Nah, with the way you've been going, you're doing that just fine on your own", he leaned forward, his eyes as intent as they were annoyed, and demanded, "So, back to the question, what do you think you're doing trying to sneak through the kitchen and out the back door dressed like you're going camping at 1:00 am on a Monday?" This just wasn't fair. He had been extremely quiet and Stanford NEVER stayed up this late on a Monday an absolute constant until now! He must have been acting suspicious of something. He didn't care, he decided, he had a mission and he wasn't going to let his stupid brother bully him out of it.
"It's none of your business Stanford. Don't you have some girl to think about or some dummy to punch?"
"Ha ha, Stanley, where are you going?"
"Why do you care? Leave me alone!"
"You're going after some weird monster again aren't you?"
"So what if I am?"
"Oh my- you're such an idiot!" Stanford exclaimed standing up from his place at the kitchen table where he had been sitting. Far from being intimidated (which he was sure was what Stanford had hoped for), his exclamation only further angered Stanley.
"I'm not stupid Stanford and you can't stop me so just shut up and get out of my way." He adjusted his grip on his satchel and made to open the door.
"Like hell I can't. I'll call dad."
"You're full of shit, he'd yell at you too for being up this late fully clothed."
"You can't keep going out looking for all that weird crap, you're going to get seriously hurt."
"You're not in charge of me and I can take care of myself. What, you think because you kept going with dads boxing lessons you're the only one who can handle themselves?"
"Well, those puny noodle arms sure aren't doing you any favors. You look like a stick with pimples. It's not my fault you were too much of a wimp to keep up." Stanley's face flushed bright red in shame and fury as his free hand formed a fist so tight it turned his knuckles white. He wasn't as buff as Stanford, but he wasn't weak either. Hunting and chasing (and running away from) monsters in the woods, with all the hiking that entailed had given him some padding, but his was a more lean muscularity. He still remembered how to throw a left hook pretty well but he knew Stanford would win the overall fight, they would get caught, and his perfect opportunity of stopping the creature any time soon would be lost. He took a deep breath and looked his brother in the eye.
"You're not easy on the eyes either mister waist high belt and we have the same skin issues dummy. Twins remember?" he added bitterly. Then he sighed and shook his head. " I have to find this thing and find a way to get rid of it. I am almost completely convinced that this is what has been stealing all those kids, you know, like Sarah's sister. If I can find a way to stop it not only will I stop the disappearances but I might find the others too." He could feel his voice beginning to rise to the point where it might wake their parents but he made no effort to stop it, he had to make Stanford understand. " So yeah, duh it's dangerous but arguably so is boxing for your brain. I need to do this." Stanford stared hard at him. His face was void of expression but Stanley could almost hear the argument going on in his brother's head. Call dad or stay? He didn't exactly remember when Stanford had turned into the kind of ass that would tattletale on him to dad (probably when his voice started changing) but he prayed, just once, let Stanford leave well enough alone.
"Fine." Stanley blinked.
"What? Really?"
"Yeah you gotta do what you gotta do right?" Stanford shrugged his broadening shoulders in a gesture of nonchalance.
"Yeah that's what I'm saying." He couldn't believe his good luck!
"We both don't wanna hear about any more missing kids, so even if it means facing some dangerous monster no one else but you has a real chance of learning enough about it to guess how to defeat it."
"Yes! Thank you! I knew you listened every one in a while. It's not safe but it's completely necessary."
"Exactly", Stanford nodded, a determined expression on his face, "that's why I'm going with you." There was a record scratch in Stanford's mind as his thoughts did a double take.
"What?" he asked, thinking (praying) he must have misheard his brother.
"I'm going with you." Nope dammit his hearing was fine.
"Why?" Stanley demanded feeling indignant. "I don't need your help."
"That's debatable", Stanford replied in an unbothered tone as he pulled on his sneakers. "We've double teamed hunts before, not like this is a new thing." Stanford finished tying his shoes and shouldered a bag Stanley had not noticed until then. The jerk had come prepared!
" We haven't done this kind of thing together for almost a year."
"No time like the present to pick up old habits."
"I could just ditch you." Stanley exclaimed in exasperation.
" And I could just call dad. I'm not letting you do this by yourself."
"Why not? Why do you care all of the sudden? It's not like you've cared recently. Wouldn't your friends think it was lame to do this?" The way Stanley said the word 'friends'; you could practically see the air quotes.
"I don't tell them everything. Now, are you going to just stand there like an idiot arguing with me or are you going to get going while there's still moonlight?"
He really didn't have any choice did he? He really hated his brother sometimes.
"Fine, just don't slow me down or I'll leave you behind."
They both knew that was a lie.
….
Thank God it was early May, meaning the weather had stopped trying to kill them all with subzero temperatures. Stanford adjusted his glasses as he walked about a pace behind his brother who was leading them both deeper and deeper into the wood. They had abandoned the main path a while ago and (though he would never admit it) Stanford had always admired how his brother had learned to navigate the place so well.
"It's not like you've cared recently."
He didn't know when it had started (probably when his voice started changing if he was being honest), but that accusation from his brother had made him realize that he had been growing pretty far apart from his brother over the past school year. They had been inseparable since they had been born and had only grown closer once the monster hunting had started, which had lasted, at least for Stanford, until junior high. They had gained a sort of confidence in themselves after they faced their first troll (roughly age 11) and in junior high seemed to come into their own as first class mischief makers. They were the pest prank-pulling duo the school had ever seen. They were familiar enough with one another they didn't need to speak to coordinate a plan and their sense of humor was always funny without being cruel to the recipient making the teachers and staff both exasperated as well as amused with the brothers. The other students certainly enjoyed watching the new pranks they would come up with during the week.
Of course, what the adults didn't know was that the humor was a defense mechanism. The bullying hadn't stopped, even into their first year of high school. It was never extremely violent (a welcome blessing) but it wore on them and assured that neither would be let into any of the defined social circles of their school no matter how funny they were. It was rough but they had had each other, so it had been bearable.
Then their dad had signed the both of them up for boxing lessons as some sort of tough-love way of trying to make his boys able to handle the outside world that seemed so set against them. At first it hadn't done much except get them soundly beaten on a regular basis after school in front of their dad who just had to go to each practice. Stanley would often retreat to the back bleacher after his session was over and hide his bruised face behind one of the heavy tomes he would bring with him. Stanford had been as miserable as his brother. The first two months of the lessons, getting as bruised as Stanley but fuming about it instead of hiding behind written words. Then, at the end of that two-month mark, something had changed for Stanford.
Billy Schultz was the biggest bully in the school. Heavy, loud, and covered in emerging muscles and freckles, the kid was essentially a scary giant that dominated the halls of their high school, trampling anyone or anything that got in his way.
Or if he simply didn't like you.
Or if it was a Tuesday.
The best part of the story was that Billy was also taking boxing lessons and seemed to take an extra amount of perverse pleasure in pairing off with each Pines twin and beating them down into a bloody mess.
The change occurred for Stanford the day that Billy had been more of an asshole than usual. Stanley had been shoved one too many times into the lockers it seemed and just snapped. He thought up a prank and, after only a little convincing for Stanford, proceeded to pull it on Billy in what seemed to be a deep rooted death wish. Honestly it hadn't even been harmful (unless glue was suddenly fatal to locker doors), but of course Billy had exploded and known exactly who had done it. They were the only ones who would ever dare, but for the rest of the day they felt rising dread for that evenings boxing lessons.
As it turned out, there had been a good reason for that dread. It was all a blur for the beginning of the practice but sharp clarity had found its way to Stanford's mind and memory as he found himself pinned to the mat by a raging Billy who was doing his best to knock Stanford's teeth out and was mocking him cruelly.
"God you're pathetic. You and your geek brother." Stanford tried his best to twist out of Billy's vice grip but only got a hit landing his on his cheekbone for the effort.
"Nice try wimp. When I'm done with you I'm going to make the other one cry. Neither of you are going to get away with making of joke of me." He smirked cruelly " How hard do you think it would be to break one of his little noodle arms?" Stanley's worried face had flashed through Stanford's and he thought about how internally strong but physically less so Stanley was and he found that, more than anything in the world, he wanted to make sure Billy never touched his brother again. So he did the only thing he could do; he found his reason and fought back.
"Left hook!" the shout left him without any real thought or notice but the feeling of the fist that connected with Billy's face would be forever seared into Stanford's memory.
He beat the snot out of Billy that day, the motivation of protecting his brother driving him the whole time. After practice their father drove them home without a word but that night, before Stanford had gone to bed, his father ruffled his hair and gave him a nod of approval. Stanley had talked nonstop all the next day about how awesome it was seeing him get back at Billy and teasingly asked if he hadn't found some new plant in the forest without him that caused muscle growth and if he had he'd better share. Stanford had resolved to not tell Stanley how he had found the motivation to fight back. His brother would take it as Stanford thinking he was weak and no amount of explanation on Stanford's part would change his mind but oddly enough Stanley never asked. It became his own secret memory. His dad was proud of him, his clever and collected brother was looking at him like he was a hero, and he couldn't have been happier.
Then came the night at the movie theatre about a week later, and Stanford found that it was possible for him to be happier. Carla McCorkle was the most beautiful girl in the whole school by far and the general population agreed. She was full of optimism and mischief, kindness and boldness, and was a true rebel of her time. She pushed the boundaries of the society she lived in for the sake of what she believed, wearing pants on a regular basis and declaring that she was going to have a professional career while her husband stayed at home with their children. Yet, she had that "it" factor that made her boldness interesting and admirable and the more she moved through life the more people that ended up following her. To Stanford's dismay she was completely unobtainable. She was beautiful, liked, and confident, essentially, she was everything he wasn't. Then something changed.
Stanford had been in line for the movie theatre by himself that night (Stanley had been uninterested in film Stanford had chosen) so he had found himself going to the late night showing of Grandpa the Kid without company. He had been perfectly fine to stand in the line for his ticket until, much to his surprise and mounting panic, Carla stood in line behind him. It was one of the rare occasions she wore a skirt and the sight of her alone and so dolled up caused Stanford's heart to speed up and his palms to sweat. He desperately wanted to say something to her, anything at all, but then he caught a reflection of himself in a nearby store window, baby fat, ache, and high pants, and all possible conversation starters got caught in his throat. He was kidding himself. Then that guy had tried to steal her purse and hearing her call for help with no one coming forward he found a motivation of a different kind, and his fist connected with the would be thief's jaw.
He had been rewarded with a kiss from Carla as well as her undivided attention for the rest of the night, and a rise in popularity. He was respected now, more people talked to him, and he was invited to things and with that had started to feel the warm security of acceptance, something he had only really experienced with his brother. Speaking of his brother, even while Stanford's popularity had grown Stanley had been left behind, people seeming to forget that Stanford had a brother at all. He certainly didn't get picked on anymore but was really just generally ignored by the student body, never really invited to join in with the crowd Stanford had found himself moving in. Stanford hadn't though much of it though, given his brother's naturally introverted nature he assumed his brother preferred it that way. Stanford had had little previous experience with having a social circle and stared, without conscious thought, to spend a majority of his time with his new friends and excessively less with his brother rather suddenly. Stanley was being left behind and was unable to do much to change it (that didn't compromise his pride).
Stanford supposed, in retrospect, that he should have made sure that Stanley was okay instead of assuming he would rather be alone.
"It's not like you've cared recently."
He flinched as the accusation blazed through his memory causing him to stumble over a tree root. He had been enjoying his social life over the past several months, it's not like he had been doing anything wrong, it was completely healthy for him to hang out with people other than his twin. Still, it had always been the two of them and Stanford reflected that he had kind of been flat out ignoring his brother. For the first time Stanley wasn't in on Stanford's inside jokes anymore, and he had stopped exploring the forest with him in favor of staying after school with his group at the local diner or bowling alley. In fact, when he thought about it, he couldn't remember the last full conversation he had had with his brother before their confrontation earlier. He also realized, with mounting shame that he couldn't remember one time he invited Stanley to come with him and meet the people he was spending so much time with and Stanley was too proud to ask.
They had started to grow apart but the easy and natural in which it had happened was what truly frightened Stanford. They were so close they finished each other's sentences, could speak to each other with a few looks, and would always know how to help the other. Always a team had been their promise when they were little, but when you're so young, you don't and can't comprehend what "always" means. You were filled with the firm belief that if you really wanted something the length of time discussed didn't matter. Then life starts to happen and you begin to realize that time is a force that matters more than you thought and makes your resolve a heavier burden with each ticking hand of the clock, no matter how strongly you believed. Stanford looked at the back of Stanley's head and felt like there was a hole in his chest at the thought that one day his brother might be a stranger to him. Stanley's life wouldn't pause while Stanford wasn't around, would still grow and learn and change. The thought of missing growing with his brother, of losing their closeness of secret codes, coordinated pranks (another thing they hadn't done in forever), and stability in one another made it hard for him to breath. He hadn't been a very good brother lately had he? He had forgotten that it was his brother that had given him the resolve to fight back in the first place.
"You're being really quiet Stan what's up? I mean I usually can't get you to shut up." Stanley was trying to cover his concern with a tone of nonchalance causing the miserable feeling in Stanford to grow heavier.
"Shouldn't we be quiet so the creep monster you're so intent on finding has a harder time finding and killing us?"
"To be fair I'm not sure if it can hear."
"Then how does it navigate since it doesn't, you know, have a face?" Stanley glanced back at him in surprise.
"How did you know that?" Stanford gave a small laugh at that and looked down slightly embarrassed.
"You leave your journal lying around sometimes, I get curious."
"You could have asked you know."
"Yeah." Stanford paused and decided his pride was only worth so much. "Hey, um, I just wanted to say that… I'm sorry." Stanley came to a full stop after Stanford had spoken and turned around, flashlight in hand, to stare fully at his brother with a look of weariness and surprise on his face.
"Okay first, and I'm only partially joking when I say this, who are you and what have you done with my brother?" Stanford gave a small snort as Stanley continued. " Secondly, I mean… you can read the journal Stan, you kind of helped find a majority of the stuff in there, it's really just the last few entries you wouldn't recognize."
"That's my point though." Dang it he going to have to make this a thing to convey his message. " I should know what those entry's are because I should have been there with you."
"Look Stan I already told you I can handle myself fine." Oh no, indignant tone surfacing, backtracking.
" That's not what I meant Lee."
" Then what? You're staring to babble." Stanford sighed and ran the palms of his hands down his face.
"I'm trying to say that I know I haven't been around like, at all lately and I'm sorry. You're my brother, and just because I made some friends doesn't mean I can just ignore you." When he looked back up at Stanley, his brother was wearing a drawn and slightly uncomfortable expression as he shifted his weight, studying the ground like it was fascinating.
"I…um…appreciate that Stan," his eyes darted around and his posture was stiff and awkward, "but you don't have to hang out with me because you feel bad. I like being alone, I think better." It was then that Stanley finally looked directly at him with resigned eyes. " I'm glad you found a crowd I mean, at least one of us needs to be somewhat normal. You can hang out with your friends all that you want man; it's your life and it's not like you're doing anything wrong. You don't need to be worried about me." No, that wasn't right either. He wasn't apologizing for getting friends he was apologizing for leaving his best friend behind. Damn it why couldn't he just say what he felt? Whoever said emotional stuff was only for girls was full of shit.
"Look, Lee, what I'm trying to say is that I actually-"
"Quiet!" The conversation came to an end as Stanley abruptly crouched and shot his hand up palm first, his eyes on some point behind his brother's head. The pale horrified expression that had come over his face after a moment was kind of freaking Stanford out.
"Lee?"
"Don't-" Stanley whispered as he slowly leaned toward him. "Don't speak. Stay still." Stanford suddenly felt all the hair on his neck stand on end as his mind was filled with what sounded, for the entire world, like white noise.
He hated the forest.
"It's right behind me isn't it?"
"What parts of 'don't speak' do you not- shit RUN!" Stanley suddenly sprang into action; grabbing Stanford's hand and yanking him forward just as Stanford felt the strap of his bag get severed and fall off his shoulder. That was way to close. The boys ran for their lives, afraid to look back and just aware enough through their haze of adrenaline that they could see where they were going well enough to know they were getting themselves lost. Panic was pounding through his veins as he bounded through he foliage, feeling the fight or flight sensation he often got during an intense boxing match. He realized that even though he had lots of experience in monster hunting with his brother, he could not remember ever feeling this terrified before. It was like the creature exuded fear, but Stanford knew they couldn't stop, if they stopped they were dead.
A loud crunching sound and muffled grunt caused Stanford to come to a screeching halt. Stanley was sprawled out on the ground, his glasses askew, and journal just out of his reach with his foot caught in the raised root of a tree. Stanford immediately turned around, dropped to the ground, and tried to dig the limb out but in the dark and with shaking hands it was useless.
"It's coming Stan."
"I can't move!"
"Just get out of here, it'll get you run!"
"Not without you!" The white noise was filling his mind again; they were running out of time.
"I'll be right back!"
Stanford scrambled away from his brother and began to frantically feel around on the ground for a rock, a stick, anything that could be used as a weapon, that freak wasn't taking Stanley as long as he was around to fight it. When he looked back, the creature was on Stanley bent over him and Stanford could only watch in horror as one of its impossibly long arms grabbed Stanley's leg and yanked his foot free of the root. Stanford's turned back to the ground, his heart pounding, and his hands closed around a fallen tree branch just as a sickening cracking sound followed by Stanley's agonized screams echoed through the air.
When he was able to look at the scene before him Stanford almost let out a scream himself. The creature had Stanley by the leg, leaving him dangling upside down but that wasn't the worst of it. The only thing Stanford could compare what he was witnessing to was watching Stanley slowly be turned into TV static. His whole body would become a silhouette of static and then flip back to normal. Now Stanford was beyond horrified, but, clutching the branch tightly in his hands, he still carried out the only resulting action for the scenario.
"Let go if him!" he didn't care if the creature could hear him or not the yell left him all the same. The thing made no move to drop Stanley who was trying in vain to hit it's body, his fists passing through it like it was made of air and coming back stained black. Right, can't touch its body, that wasn't where he was aiming anyway. With a wordless cry Stanford swung the branch at the things blank head, connecting soundly and throwing the creature off enough that that it dropped Stanley on his head causing the boy to grunt on impact before he gathered himself and began to crawl away. The monster recollected itself and Stanford got the horrible feeling that he had only succeeded in making it angry. He didn't know how to fight this thing, he couldn't use his fists and they couldn't get any help which meant that, as the creature reached for him, Stanford Pines knew his luck had run out.
"Get down!" Stanford obeyed his brother's order without hesitation, throwing himself on the forest floor, pine needles filling his nose with their scent and piercing his hands as he did so. There was a sudden flash of light followed by a long unearthly screech and then, dead silence. Once Stanford had arrived at the conclusion that he wasn't going to die after all (at least for now) and dared to look up again, he saw his brother swaying on his feet (favoring one over the other) in front of him at the spot where the creature had been moments before. He was clutching his (was that smoke coming off of it?) journal between his six fingered, and what appeared to be ink-stained hands.
"What-?" it was hard to try to form sentences at the moment, "What happened?" Stanley, who was panting harshly like he had run a marathon (or fought a monster) answered between gasping breaths,
"When I hit it, it left ink on my hands (so his hands really were ink-stained) and it was trying to grab you and I had picked up my journal and I had to stop it so I thought…" he trailed off trying to regulate his breath.
"You thought you would hit it with paper."
"Yeah it sounds stupid but I wasn't really thinking too much about it."
"It's genius! I mean it's crazy but this whole thing is! I mean we're alive aren't we?" Stanley responded with a small but pained smile and Stanley made a move to get up and support his brother, that ankle was probably broken if the sound it had made was anything to go by. Before he could reach Stanley though, his brother gave a yelp as his journal spontaneously burst in burst into flames. Stanley dropped the book and groaned as they watched it become reduced to ashes and honestly; Stanford could understand his brother's distress. That was a lot of adventures and the information they revealed lost, it was a good thing Stanley's memory was so good, he'd probably be able to re-record everything but even then that was a lot of writing. Stanford approached his brother's forlorn and exhausted figure as the flames died.
"I'll buy you a new one."
"It's okay, I'd rather us be alive than have it anyway." They watched as a few pages that that somehow remained untouched by the flame blew away deeper into the woods. Both were too tired to go after them.
"Any explanation for that?"
"Nope."
"Fair enough. How's your foot."
"Broken I think."
"Thought it might be, that was a nasty sounding crack." He moved from standing across from his brother to next to him.
"Here, lean on me." Stanley seemed to want to protest but thought better of it, and slung his arm around Stanford's shoulder, using him as a crutch as Stanford pulled out a compass he had brought with him and they slowly began to walk in the direction of home.
"So… a man made of ink that kidnaps children. How do you guess that happens?"
"I'm not sure. Could be some kind of witchcraft." Stanley let out a hiss of pain as he stumbled over a rock, and tightened his arm around Stanford. When had he developed all this muscle, his brother was almost strangling him?
"How do you mean?"
"Maybe someone cursed a book and the monster came out. Honestly man, I've got no clue and for once I don't really care, I just never want to see a thing like that again."
"I feel ya on that one. Gonna log this one?"
"Guess I should once I get a new journal."
"Seriously let me buy you one, you deserve it."
"Yeah yeah okay, but you saved my ass too."
"I hit it with a stick Lee." There was a short pause before the two broke out into sidesplitting laughter overwhelmed suddenly with the relief of being alive and the sheer horrifying absurdity of the whole situation.
" I can't believe you did that," Stanley confessed after they finally caught their breath.
"Me neither." They continued to make to make their way slowly down the rediscovered path when Stanford remembered something.
"Hey, what about all the missing kids?"
"I don't know, it might have dissolved them like it tried to do to me-"
"How did that feel?" Stanford interrupted.
"Like my whole body suddenly fell asleep. Or they might just reappear. All I know is that if they can be found they will." A few moments of silence.
"What should we call it?"
"I don't know. Ink Monster?"
"Lee that's boring and stupid."
"I know I'm just not exactly in the mood Stan."
"Oh come on" Stanford huffed, "it can't be that hard just try anything. It's tall dark , dark, and slender we can do something with that."
"I don't know. How about…Slenderman?"
"Seriously?"
"You pushed so that's what you got."
"You are off your game tonight bro."
"Yeah" Stanley grunted as he hobbled along, "don't remind me." They finally reached the end of the path, emerging from the shadow of the forest into the early dawn, battered but grateful to be alive and whole. They were also quite startled to find a row of children of differing ages all lying side by side along the tree line. After a glance at one another they made their way over to the nearest few.
"Oh my gosh!" Stanford exclaimed peering at the face of a bond haired girl who seemed no older than ten, "This one's Sarah Carmichael's sister!"
"I've seen this on one of the posters!"
"They're all breathing! They're all alive!" Stanley smiled his rare uninhibited beaming smile and Stanford finally knew what he wanted to say to him.
"Look, I was trying to say this earlier and I'm gonna say it now before we get attacked by some other thing. I genuinely miss hanging out with you of doing all the stuff we used to do together. Even this…" he gestured at the scene around them "stuff. I'm sorry I forgot to remember you and next time I go out with the group I'd really like you to come with us they'd love you. We good?" Stanley, who already had an arm around Stanford's shoulders, used it to pull his brother into a one armed hug.
"We're cool."
"What is this a hug?"
"No." and suddenly the arm was squeezing around his neck, "It's a chokehold."
"Ha ha. I could just drop you."
"No you won't."
"Can it Poindexter." They smiled at one another and Stanford felt more settled than he had in months. Then, looking down, he realized something.
"Hey Lee?"
"Yeah Stan?"
"How are we going to explain how we found these kids?" A pause.
"I'm sure we'll think of something."
"I was afraid you we're going to say that."